“What,” she answered smiling, “with this bandage round my head? Well, in your eyes, perhaps.” But inwardly she thought to herself that the description would be more applicable to her father, who in truth, notwithstanding his years, was wonderfully handsome, with his quick blue eyes, mobile face, gentle mouth with the wistful droop at the corners so like her own, and grey beard. How, she wondered, could this be the man who had struck her mother. Then she remembered him as he had been years before when he was a slave to liquor, and knew that the answer was simple. “Tell me about your escape, love,” he said, patting her hand with his thin fingers. “You don’t know what I’ve suffered. I was waiting at the Royal Hotel here, when the cable came announcing the loss of the _Zanzibar_ and all on board. For the first time for many a year I drank spirits to drown my grief--don’t be afraid, dear--for the first time and the last. Then afterwards came another cable giving the names of those who were known to be saved, and--thank God, oh! thank God--yours among them,” and he gasped at the recollection of that relief. “Yes,” she said; “I suppose I should thank--Him--and another. Have you heard the story about--how Mr. Seymour saved me, I mean?” “Some of it. While you were dressing yourself, I have been talking to the officer who was in command of your boat. He was a brave man, Benita, and I am sorry to tell you he is gone.” She grasped a stanchion and clung there, staring at him with a wild, white face. “How do you know that, Father?” Mr. Clifford drew a copy of the _Natal Mercury_ of the previous day from the pocket of his ulster, and while she waited in an agony he hunted through the long columns descriptive of the loss of the _Zanzibar_. Presently he came to the paragraph he sought, and read it aloud to her. It ran: “The searchers on the coast opposite the scene of the shipwreck report that they met a Kaffir who was travelling along the seashore, who produced a gold watch which he said he had taken from the body of a white man that he found lying on the sand at the mouth of the Umvoli River. Inside the watch is engraved, ‘To Seymour Robert Seymour, from his uncle, on his twenty-first birthday.’ The name of Mr. Seymour appears as a first-class passenger to Durban by the _Zanzibar_. He was a member of an old English family in Lincolnshire. This was his second journey to South Africa, which he visited some years ago with his brother on a big-game shooting expedition. All who knew him then will join with us in deploring his loss. Mr. Seymour was a noted shot and an English gentleman of the best stamp. He was last seen by one of the survivors of the catastrophe, carrying Miss Clifford, the daughter of the well-known Natal pioneer of that name, into a boat, but as this young lady is reported to have been saved, and as he entered the boat with her, no explanation is yet forthcoming as to how he came to his sad end.”